


progress

by fluffysfics



Series: the most infuriating seventy seven years of his life [8]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, bad life choices, poorly motivated attempts at self improvement, the Master’s time on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Tired of chasing the Doctor, the Master settles in Bristol, near St Luke’s University. There’s some ghosts from his past that he just can’t shake off...
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Series: the most infuriating seventy seven years of his life [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147559
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	progress

Of all the Master’s many bad ideas over the years, coming here might take the cake for being the absolute _worst_. His memories of time spent here are still so fresh, even though...oh. 

Even though he’s been out of the Vault for as long as he spent inside of it. 

It’s 2016, and he’s exhausted. Chasing the Doctor has grown so completely tiring, so painful; moving to Bristol was inevitable, really. It’s easy enough to blend in as a student if he keeps his head down, and in return, he can see as much of the Doctor as he wants. 

He avoids the Vault. It feels magnetic to him- he can sense Missy’s presence down there, feel her guilt and her desperate wish to make things better. He feels sorry for her; she’s naïve, but she was trying her best. She didn’t know the Doctor’s true identity, she didn’t know that there could never be any chance of him loving her like an equal. 

So he goes to the Doctor’s lectures when he has the energy, and sometimes he drifts around campus in the hopes of running into him, without much success. He’s always busy. Never got time for personal chats with _anyone_ , really. Not even Missy, sometimes. 

There is someone that he can’t avoid, though. 

His first sight of Bill, taking her lunch break outside with a couple of friends, had been enough to twist his stomach so far with guilt that he’d felt sick for a week afterwards. 

The Master hates it, hates that he feels so utterly wretched over a human, but- she died, she suffered a fate far _worse_ than death, and it was all his fault. If only he’d been more careful. If only he hadn’t been so flippant. If only he’d jumped in front of the gun, or knocked it out of its owners hands, or- or done _anything_ except stand there and watch as a human who had been under his care had been shot. 

He’s tried so hard to blank out all of the ‘be good’ programming that Missy had worked to instil in herself in the Vault. But there’s still a knot of it, tangled up around Bill, and he can’t rid himself of the guilt. 

His next few sightings of her had been marginally less painful. She’s in the Doctor’s lectures, sometimes- always sat near the front, always looking absolutely fascinated. It’s near Christmas of this year that he takes her on as a student, if he’s remembering correctly. And that’s when everything goes wrong for her. 

It’s late September, when the university campus is filling with terrified new students and everything is five times as busy as usual, when the Master gets his chance to actually talk to her. 

She’s perched on a stool in the student union café, still wearing her apron from her job, and she looks exhausted. New students must be pretty tiring to deal with, the Master thinks, eyeing her from across the room. This is a bad idea. Terrible. Everything he’s done since coming to Bristol has been a bad idea, so...what’s one more to add to the pile? 

He picks his way across the room, sliding himself through a gap between two groups of students that look either drunk or highly caffeinated, and plopping down onto the stool next to Bill. 

“Hi,” he says. 

She squints at him. “Before you try anything, you should know- I’m a lesbian. Really not into guys. Sorry.” 

Ah, right. Yes. Human men are terrible and will flirt with anything vaguely shaped like a woman, he should have remembered that. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures her. “I’m not interested. Well- not in that way.” He rests his chin on his hand, studying Bill. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t I? In some of my lectures?” 

Bill tenses up slightly- she glances down at her uniform, as if debating whether it’s too late to pull it off and pretend like she’s a real student here. “Uh...that depends on if you’re going to narc on me,” she says, watching him suspiciously. 

“I’m not.” The Master gives her his best reassuring smile, even though it’s very hard to smile when he knows what’s going to happen to her in less than a year, now. And it’s going to be his fault. 

“Right. Good.” She relaxes a little. “Yeah, I go to the Doctor’s lectures sometimes. They’re interesting- everyone knows that. Half the people there aren’t his students!” 

“Oh, I know,” the Master says softly. “I can’t blame them, he’s a fascinating teacher. Fascinating _person_ in general- they say he’s taught here since 1947.” 

“Yeah, right. He’s not _that_ old.” Bill scoffs. “Unless he’s some secret...alien, or something. People say that, too.” 

“Mm...they also say he’s a ghost. Not sure how they think a ghost could be teaching scheduled classes, but there you go. That’s students for you,” the Master says dryly. 

Bill laughs, looking distinctly less nervous than she had a couple of minutes ago. She has a nice laugh, and a strong, infectious sort of smile- he feels bizarrely protective over her. Even though he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s going to happen to her. 

“Never got your name,” she says, leaning forwards. “I’m Bill. Bill Potts.”

“Um...” He really should have thought about a false name before coming over here, but he’d been far too distracted by the sight of her. “Harry Saxon.” Can’t go wrong with a classic. 

“Wasn’t he that- that guy? The nutty one from like a decade ago?” 

Apparently you _can_ go wrong with a classic. 

“Ah...yeah. Don’t get me started on how many times I’ve heard that,” the Master says, laughing softly. “Just my luck, to end up with the same name as that megalomaniac.” 

He’s not very fond of that particular regeneration of himself. He hadn’t been from the moment he’d regenerated into Missy, and the way in which he’d ended up as his current body had only solidified that deep hatred. Without that smug little shit, he could be with the Doctor still, blissfully ignorant of who she really was. 

“Well- I’m sure you’re much nicer than he was,” Bill says, offering him a pat on the arm. “Hey, I’ve got to head home. But I’ll see you around, yeah? Save a seat for you in the Doctor’s lectures.” 

The Master manages to give her a genuine-looking smile. “See you around,” he agrees. “Nice meeting you properly, Bill Potts.” 

She flashes one last bright smile, and she’s off through the crowd of students in the café. The Master watches her leave, feeling the usual knot of guilt expand and twist in his stomach. 

He turns towards the counter, catching one of the worker’s attention and ordering himself a bottle of ginger ale. He’s been good about drinking, for the most part, but tonight- he _needs_ it. 

——

A few months later, the Master is sat in one of those rare lectures where Bill isn’t around. She’s probably busy with work- he’s checked the dates, it’s still a while before everything goes wrong. The Monks are going to happen soon. He’s kind of looking forward to that. 

He rests his chin on his hand, listening to the Doctor talk. The start of this lecture had been about faster-than-light travel; eight tangents deep, he’s now going on about an artificial intelligence named HAM SANDWICH that he met once. He insists on spelling out the name every time he says it- the Master vaguely wonders if it’s an acronym. 

Not that it matters, really. None of this matters as much as how the Doctor _feels_. That magnetic presence, the warmth of another Time Lord nearby. Whilst he’s in here, the Master can lose himself in it. He can forget about having three years left on Earth, possibly three years left to _live_. He can just listen. 

At least, until something _pings_ in the corner of the Doctor’s screen. A notification- and the Master stiffens when he sees the face attached to it. _Missy_. 

“Ah...class dismissed,” the Doctor says suddenly, flapping his hands as if to shoo them all out of the room. “Go on, get out of here. Enjoy the sunshine. Most of you look like you haven’t been outside in months.” 

The Master is seated about as far from the door as it’s possible to get. He doesn’t hurry the process of getting up; he wants to stick around a little. Maybe half of the students have left the room when the Doctor clicks on Missy’s icon on his computer screen, leaning in close. 

Quietly, the Master moves down towards the front of the room, straining to hear them talking over the sounds of student chatter. 

“...can’t get you a horse, it’s animal cruelty.” 

“So’s what you put those human children through every time you lecture them!”

“They’re not children, Missy, they’re _students_. Technically adults.” 

“Technically, technically. _Technically_ I’m a prisoner here, so I think I deserve a horse.” 

“What would you even _do_ with it? And we both know you could leave any time you want, Missy. You’re choosing not to. Which is _good_ , by the way, it’s progress.” 

“Progress,” Missy repeats softly, and that’s all the Master can take. He pushes his way out past the remains of the crowd, bolting out of the building and slumping back against the wall outside. 

_Progress_. Towards what? Eating him alive with guilt? He’d been utterly miserable, those last few months in the Vault. Pining every second that the Doctor wasn’t around, constantly trying to impress him when he _was_. Anything, anything to earn his approval. To earn his touch, his love- hell, he’d have taken a friendly nod. 

In that regard, the Master supposes that he really hasn’t changed much. All those fantasies about getting down on his knees for his Doctor, dreaming that she’d feel something for him- they’re all just that, deep down. Fantasies. He won’t be her equal, he won’t rule anything by her side- he won’t even be her caged little pet like Missy was, she’s hardly merciful enough for that. 

He thinks of Bill, how it had felt to meet her. The guilt, the pain, the protectiveness. Those feelings- they’re _Missy_. A part of her that he can’t let go of. This softness for the Doctor, that’s her too, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to claw it out of his hearts. No matter how viciously he tries. 

_Progress_. 

Breaking a person’s hearts is not progress, he thinks bitterly. It never should have been. 

There’s nothing he can do for Missy. Nothing he can do for Bill. Their stories are fixed points. He doesn’t know how Bill’s really ends, what becomes of her. But Missy...she lives on in him. 

He knows he can’t rid himself of his feelings for the Doctor. He never will be able to. But at the very least, he can toughen himself up a bit. He’s got three years; he can make sure that he won’t fall to pieces around the Doctor when he sees her next. He’s the _Master_. He should be too proud to beg at her feet, no matter who or what she really is, how much power she doesn’t know that she holds. 

He owes this to Bill, to Missy, to himself. 

Time to make some _real_ progress. 

**Author's Note:**

> only one more fic to go for this series...hope you enjoyed this one! comments and kudos very much appreciated as always <3


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